On that old, Black Cloak again.

I'm still suffering from depression. I say 'still', as it's not something that goes away and then you catch it again like flu, but it's always there, lurking in the back of my mind.
This depression is not just having a bad day, it's an illness for which I have to take regular medication to keep me on an even-keel. Most people who say they're feeling 'depressed', do not understand what clinical depression is like.
I do have good days. Sometimes I even have really good days, but even on those days there will always be a little dark cloud that blots out the sunshine for a while and leaves me cold.
On the good days no one would think that I'm a certified 'loony-tune'. I can function just fine, go shopping, talk to people, tell jokes and be as sociable as Santa Claus on lithium, but on the bad days I can't even bear to leave my bedroom, let alone the house.
I'm very fortunate that I have a couple of good friends who understand how depression affects me, and they make sure I get fed and watered when I'm burrowing into my duvet and wishing the world would go away, but even they don't understand how it feels when the big, black cloak falls down on me.
I've described it before; Sometimes I can shrug it off, but at others it's just too heavy and drags me further and further down until I can't even struggle to move, let alone get it off me.
If that happens when I'm out and about, it causes what is delightfully known as a 'Panic Attack'.
'Panic' is a word generally used to describe how a person acts when they can't find their keys or are running late for something important. It does not normally describe how it feels to not be able to breathe properly whilst trying desperately to stop crying as everyone around you is either staring at you or walking away as you are clearly mad, and all you want to do is hide in a dark corner until the all encompassing terror stops one way or another.
Trust me, I'd rather spend an hour looking for my keys any day.
One of my good friends knows how depression feels as she also suffers from it. If we arrange to meet up and then have to cancel as we're simply not up to facing the world, we either talk over the phone or leave each other in peace until we're up it again.
But other people I've known in the past and counted as friends have not been so understanding.
I was told by one person that 'Although they liked being around the happy Misty, they really didn't like it when I was seriously depressed and that although they'd be more than happy to talk to me when I was 'over myself', they didn't want to know me when I was really ill'.
Lovely, eh?
Since then I've learnt to stay well clear of anyone who tells me incredibly 'helpful' things such as to 'Get over it, it's all in your head', or to 'Stop wallowing in self-pity'. I doubt they'd be as insensitive as to tell a paraplegic to 'Get up and walk' as it's just 'Feeling sorry for themselves'.
Thinking about it they probably would.
So if you know someone who is ill with clinical depression, go give them a hug right now.
If you're suffering from it and don't have someone to give you a hug, go talk to an understanding animal about it and give them a cuddle instead.

And so once again, the main event of the week is upon us, yay!

Yep, tis Wednesday, also known as 'Hump Day' and even better to those in the know as 'Double Entendre Day' which means that it is perfectly acceptable to tell your boss to give you something large and satisfying*, or to inform your other half that you want them to 'Give it to you hot, juicy and slow'**, or hie thee to your local drinking establishment and ask the bartender to give you a 'Slow, Comfortable Screw Against the Wall', while you suck on a 'Slippery Nipple' with not the slightest hint of shame or embarrassment.

And so on and so forth; you get the general idea.

Anyhoo, the other highlight of Double Entendre Day, is the renowned Caption Competition, wherein I show you a photo and you darlings put your thinking caps on and come up with dozens upon dozens of witty and erudite comments to accompany said photo, bearing in mind the nuances of the Double Entendre.

With any luck, you will all be so overcome with passion that you can not withhold your emotions and proceed to stuff my box to near capacity, giving me a delicious 69 in the duration.

Maybe.

And so, as I can not contain my excitement a moment longer, your photo for today's lust filled frenzy Caption Competition is one that was snapped by my own fair paw and is -
(Clicky for biggerness)
So, please to set about giving me a jolly good stuffing.
There's a delicious, juicy cherry going for every comment left, and should I get me a 69 the one who gets me there will recieve an extra squirt of cream to top it.

What else can I say except,

Get.

In.

There.

*Like a pay rise.
**Dinner

The Rub

A lesser known fact about me is that I'm a fully trained and qualified aromatherapy and massage therapist, and a few years back I made a pretty good living out of it.
Most of my patients came from a local GP who preferred their patients to get better without the aid of chemicals and so if at all possible, and I'd get a call about once a week from the doctor asking me if I could fit someone in.
One day I got a call saying that the doc had a patient with them in their surgery who was a police officer. Said police officer had been at work, when somebody stuck a gun in his face and told him to 'freeze'.
Freeze he did indeed. His muscles had totally seized up and he was so shaken that his boss had told him to go home from work there and then, and pay a visit to his GP on the way.
Twenty minutes later he was round at mine, and I made up the most relaxing blend of oils possible and got to work trying to unravel the knots from his body.
An hour and a half of massage and a good cry later* he was feeling a lot more relaxed and could move without his back going into spasm, so I advised him to go home and get to bed and hopefully get some sleep. I gave him the remainder of the oil blend for him to use before he left and jotted down my phone number (I was out of my cards that day) in case he needed to come back.
Off he went with his shoulders moving nicely, and as I had no more patients for the day I settled down with a film to watch and a cuppa to share with Pudsey.
A couple of hours later my phone rang. I answered it, and before I had a chance to say anything more than 'hello' a woman on the other end started screaming "Who the fu*k are you, and what the fu*k have you been doing with my husband you slut! You fu*king marriage wrecker, do you know we have two children you cow?"
I managed to say 'Wha...?' before I heard a man's voice shouting "What are you doing? Who the hell are you screaming at?" before the woman started to yell at him too.
I stared at the phone in disbelief trying to figure out who was calling me, and why they seemed convinced I'd broken up a marriage.
More screaming and shouting was heard before the man's voice shouted out "The doctor sent me to her you stupid bint! I was involved in a hold up and the boss told me to go home early because of severe stress and shock!"
The penny dropped.
The police officer was home way earlier than expected, and his wife had found him in their bed smelling of what she thought was perfume, gone through his pockets and found my phone number and name on a scrap of paper, put two and two together and come up with five.
There followed about ten minutes of tears and apologies before I finally got off the phone.
The police officer came back to see me again the next day as funnily enough, he was rather stressed again.
For some strange reason I was feeling stressed after that call too.
I still wonder what she'd thought if my then boyfriend had answered the phone instead of me.

*Him crying, not me.

Ah my lovelies, what joy doth Monday bring thee?

As usual there's the Choose-O, but as it's cold and damp outside here and I for one have that 'Monday Morning Feeling', I reckon that while you're casting your votes in the comments box, tell me your favourite joke while you're down there.

The sillier the better as well, such as -

Q. What do you call a row of rabbits walking backwards?
A. A receding hare line.

and

Q. What do you do with a wombat?
A. Play wom.

Your reward for sharing teh funnies?

Live Nude Cats! and some entertainment by The Freakin' Brothers!

And once you're done with that, your Choose-O Choices are -

• The Accused
• Camp
• The Rub

Choose wisely, and have a fabulous Monday!

So Friday rolls around once more, which means that it's time to put on your thinking caps and join in with the fun of today's 'Game for the Weekend!', woohoo!

And today, we combine one of the greatest writers in history with good old fashioned pr0n, to bring you, 'Shakespeare in Lust'.
Yep, think of those classic plays and sonnets &c, and make 'em as smutty as possible, for example -

A Midsummer Night's Wet Dream
Two Gentlemen in Veronica
The Taming of the Ho
Curry your Anus
Hotfellow
Much Ado About Dogging
As You Really Like It!
Tight as Andronicus
Richard the Turd
Troilus and Coprophilia

And as usual, I'm sure you lot can come up with something far more disgusting better so over to you, but if you really can't think of anything, then here's another adorable piccy of a kitten for you to LOL up.

ttfn, and have a wonderful weekend y'all!

*mwah*

Additional, 12:45 hours
I bow down* to J.K. Rowling's obvious knowledge, but isn't a cloak with sleeves called a coat?
(clicky for biggerness)
Please discuss.

*Not.

So I say -

Hawaiian :
Rainbow :
Slam :
Tropical :
Dream :
Masquerade :
Dark :
Bitter :
Pink :
Bat :
Maximum :
Forever :

And you say - ?

And so Wednesday is upon us once more, which means it's time for this week's Caption Competition again, rah!

I've picked a lovely photo today, so if I don't get a 69 I'll be very, very sad.

A Farley's rusk going for every entry, and a big glass of milk available should I get me that soixante-neuf.

Anyway, I bet you're all just itching to go fill my box, so over to you!

Shed

This event happened many, many moons ago when I was a very little tot indeed. It can only be told now that the guilty party - my father - is no longer around to be prosecuted.

I was still developing inside my mother when we moved into our first family home. It was a semi-detached house in a quiet, leafy suburb back in the days when crime was a rare thing and folks could leave their back doors open without fear of being burgled etc.
A short while after I'd made my debut into the world my father decided he was going to work on the garden. It was the first Spring time at the house and my dad had big plans to make the garden as perfect as possible, and this involved getting rid of the shed at the end of the garden.
The shed was a great, dark, monolith of a beast; it had been there as long as the house but although the house had been well cared for, this shed had been neglected and after some years had taken on a life of it's own.
To say it 'brooded' was an understatement. It sat right at the far end of the garden, taking up most of the entire width and thus blocking out the view of the golf course behind it.
My dad had tried to get in to see what lurked inside, but was beaten back by decades of ivy and spiders webs which rivaled a rain forest in density.

And so my dad hit upon the idea of burning the thing before finally razing it to the ground.

He thought this would be a simple plan, after all the shed was made of wood and wood is known to burn. Granted, some of the wood appeared to have been petrified with age, but still it was wood.
And so early one Saturday morning my father set out of the house armed with a large box of matches, some kindling, a crowbar, and just in case the shed refused to catch fire a handy can of good old pink paraffin.
Under cover of the dawn's first light he set the kindling around the driest corner of the shed and lit the first match. It didn't catch, so he tried again but to no avail.
After the fifth attempt he decided to give the kindling and the wall of the shed a splosh of the pink paraffin and to his delight the shed finally caught light.
As the flames loosened the ages old planks of wood, my dad pulled at them with the crowbar and began to pile them into a pyre so that he could control the spread of the fire, and all was going well until the wind changed direction.
He'd just given the shed wall another trickle of the pink stuff when a gust of wind spread the flame up to the roof of the building. It was only then that my dad realized that the roof was covered with pitch, and the problem with pitch is that although solid at room temperature, is fluid under heat and also, if made from petroleum is highly flammable.
So you can imagine what happened next.
My dad backed away as the roof began to melt and burst into little patches of flames, slowly revealing what lurked within the confines of the dread shed.
It was when my father espied the large can marked 'petrol' that he turned and ran as fast as he could.
The explosion that occurred a short while later not only demolished the structure of the shed waking the entire street as it did so, but set fire to one of the ancient trees that overhung the outbuilding.
A very short while later the street began to resound to the clangs of fire engines arriving and it seemed that the entire local fire brigade had arrived to break through the gate to the garden and let loose their hoses on the remains of the flaming shed and the tree which was threatening to spread flames to the adjoining trees along the golf course.
My dad did the only thing he could do under the circumstances.
He hid in the house, changed back into his pyjamas and dressing gown and then ran out into the street to accompany the neighbours with their cries of alarm and concern.
After about twenty minutes the fire was out and all that was left of the shed was a pile of smouldering planks. The tree however was also badly burnt and had lost many of it's branches leaving it about a quarter of the height of the surrounding trees.
My dad denied all knowledge of what had happened and very fortunately for him the fire brigade decided it was a sad case of 'youths from the local council estate' playing about with matches.

And he only ever told what really happened to me, my mother and his close friends after he'd had a couple of whiskeys one Christmas, so don't tell anyone I told you what really happened, akay?

Well, Monday again which means Choose-O day, but before I get onto that I have something else I would like to ask you lot.

Yesterday while sniffing through Flickr, I happened to find a photo of some one's ear and I jumped up and down with excitement.
No, I do not have a strange ear fetish, just this ear had something on it that I have one of and no-one else I've ever met has, being a little lump that I was born with.

Kaptain Kobold has one exactly the same that he was born with as well, and he's never met (or heard of) anyone with one either. See below -
(clicky for biggerness)
So my question for you today is 'Have you got one, or do you know anyone that has?'
Answers (as well as your Choose-O choices) in the usual comments box, SVP.

Oh, and your Choose-O choices are -

• The Accused
• Shed
• Camp

Over to you, and don't forget to fill me in on life outside the 2D world while you're down there.

It's that time of the week again!

All over the world people are watching the clock slowly tick it's way to the end of the working day so that they can then dash home via the pub, and spend the next couple of days doing fabulously exciting things, such as watching TV, eating take-aways, or going back to the pub and getting their weekly quota of alcohol down in three hours.

Or maybe some folk are doing more strenuous activities like going for a run, a session at the gym, or maybe heading for the nearest railway station and trying to spot trains.

But if you are not doing anything even remotely entertaining, then you might like to think up some suggestions for 'The Worst Possible Things To Do Or Say In Court', such as -

Shout 'Here come da Judge!' whenever he enters the court.
Try to bribe the jury while your prosecutor is being examined.
End every question with "Fo shizzle!"
Refer to the Judge as 'Blud bro!'
Bite your toenails.
Try to bite the Usher's toenails.
Ask if anyone on the jury would like their toenails bitten.
Get out a pipe and ask if anyone has any crack on them.
When your defendant is pleading your case, shout "I object!" at every opportunity.
Flirt with the prosecutor.
Open a jar of garlic cloves and eat them.
Hum the line "I fought the law, and the law won" while being cross-examined.

And so on and so forth.
I'm sure you can do better, so over to you, and whatever you're up to over the next couple of days, I hope you have fun.

ttfn,

*mwah*

It's no good. Once again I've been sitting here in front of the television computer, and once again my mind is a blank of anything witty or erudite to write about.

As Arthur Dent once said, "This must be Thursday. I never could get the hang of Thursdays.

I think it might be because I've never really had anything planned for Thursdays; I mean Monday is Choose-O day, Tuesday is story day, Wednesday, Double Entendre Day, and Friday sometimes brings forth merriment and games.

But Thursdays? Nothing.

All I can think of for today is to present you with a piccy of some cute ickle kittens, and ask you to LOL it up for me, so here it is -


Or, maybe if your brain is working overtime, you could suggest something I might do on Thursdays from now on. Maybe.

I dunno. I reckon I need a holiday. I'm off to the docs later on so maybe I'll ask if I can get two weeks in the sun on prescription. As they say, if you don't ask, you don't get.

Wish me luck, and LOL those kitties up big time plz!

Ah my cherubs, today finds me rested, refreshed, and raring to get to the stuffing of my box!

Thanks for the suggestions for photos for today's Caption Competition and after some deliberation and cogitation I have chosen one from the fabulous site referred to me by FJ, being this -

So I reckon that as it's bright, early and Double Entendre Day, the best thing to do is to get stuck in and start giving my box all you've got!

There's a tasty onion ring going for every entry and a chzbrgr available should I get me a 69!

Over to you then!

*mwah*

And so Chocolate Sunday is over and doned with for another year, and we can get back to the ordinary, mundane thing that is called life sans Bonk Holidays for a while again.

I didn't really do much over the long weekend, mainly because 'Easter' is not the best time of year for me, but also because I was doing a lot of thinking, and because of the thinking I started talking to people, and because of the talking, one of my long term plans looks like it's coming to fruition, yay!
I don't really want to say what I'm up to just yet, but please send as many positive thoughts my way if you get a chance, akay?

Anyhoo, back to the bloggy side of things, as yesterday was a bonk holiday we have missed the usual Monday Choose-O, so today I would like you to do a bit of intermanet searching and find me the perfect photo for tomorrow's Double Entendre Day, Caption Competition!
I know you will all do me proud and give me enough pix to keep me going for ages, but please don't forget to tell me all about your extra long weekends and life in general while you're down there in my comments box.

So that's about it for today, apart from a cartoon I was sent that I really like and wot made me roffle, being this -

Thanks C'riz! That's about the best bit of today's post! I know I've been not quite 'with it' recently, and I don't like not really having anything lined up to entertain you with right now, but I do have some fab ideas for the near future so plz to standby!

Oooh, or, you could go have a look at my photos if you haven't done so recently. Taking piccies is one of the few things that keeps me sane, and you might find my Flickr site rather more exciting than here right now.
Then again, maybe I should be trying to get to spleep rather than trying to be witty and erudite at 04:19 hours...

Over to you my cherubim, I've missed you over the long weekend, so tell me everything you've been up to, alright?

*mwah*

Apologies again my sweeties, but I've been having all sorts of problems with the 'puter, and being out and about and so.
Anyway, I am alive, just, and am now looking forward to a weekend of flopping about doing as little as possible and trying hard to ignore the festival that the Christians nicked from the Pagans and will instead be simply enjoying the Springtime and all it brings with it, such as daffodils, rain, and chocolate.
I hope you're all going to be having a fun time this Bonk Holiday and have plans to eat as much as possible on the sacred Chocolate Sunday that will soon be upon us.
I will leave you once again with something I wroted ages ago, but still serves as a warning that should not be ignored in these perilous times.
Please take head.

Welcome again to Misty's Nature Corner. Today, we shall be looking into the life and habits of a rare, and terrifying wild beast, the Pascha Cuniculus, commonly known as The Easter Bunny.

This elusive creature is thought to mainly inhabit wildlands, called Shopping Centres, and survives mainly on humans, who are either to weak or tired to defend themselves, and have managed to stray from their packs, known as 'Shoppers'.
Pascha Cuniculus, was thought in the past to only show itself for a couple of weeks per year, maximum, when the season was right for it to blend in with Easter Foliage and so, which it would use as camouflage whilst lying in wait for its prey. But now, due to climate change and global warming, the Easter season has been known to start as early as January, with the first signs, such as Creme Eggs, sprouting on shelves at the beginning of the month.
Occasionally, Pascha Cuniculus will adorn itself with a variety of bows, and carry a small basket laden with chocolate droppings, in order to tempt the unwary into its trap.
If you should spot one of these savage beasts, your best defence is to either run as fast as you can away from it, (check you have a clear escape route first) or to lie flat on the ground covering as much of your face as possible, as this might convince the bunny that you are already dead, and therefore not as much fun to attack.
Signs that an Easter Bunny is around, include small scraps of tin foil scattered around pellets of dropping that smell of chocolate, blood splatters on the floor and walls of shopping malls, and bare bones with large pointy teeth marks gouged into them strewn around the locale.

You have been warned.

And so once again we dive into the depths of depravity...

Well, sort of, seeing as it's Wednesday which some folk call 'Hump Day', but as it is known in my little corner of the blogosphere, 'Double Entendre Day!'

Regular readers know the score and I hope that they are champing at the bit to give my box a thorough stuffing, but as is the way of the world, there are always those folk who are new to the game and are not yet initiated into the art of 'Slipping a Big One to The Boss when they are least expecting it'.

For those innocents, the way to play today's game is to study the photograph below, and then think up as many Double Entendres and witty captions as you possibly can to write in the comments box at the bottom of this post.

This activity is also called 'Giving Misty's Box A Damn Good Stuffing Which Could Lead to a Fabulous 69!'

As a reward for all your efforts, each 'commenteer' gets a prize which this week is in the form of a snort of a Sherbet Dib Dab for every entry, and a lick of my favourite Cherry Bomb available to the person who gets me to a Soixante-neuf, if it happens.

The piccy for this week's CC is* -

So as per the norm,

Get.

In.

There.

*Probably something I should have put a warning up about before anyone saw it, but I suffered when I first saw it and like to share these things.
Thank you to the person who sent it to me. I have now managed to stop screaming thanks to the new medikashun.

PS. I really do have the best readers/commenteers/lurkers a girl could wish for!

Shop

A fair few moons ago I was working in a shop in Ealing.
It was one of those ill-fated shops that sold hippy-trippy crystals, whale song and rain forest music, candles, tarot cards, and a whole load of other stuff that people generally buy for family and friends when they're stumped for ideas and can't afford anything from M&S.

The main reason it was ill-fated was that it was run by people who had no business acumen whatsoever and employed management with the personalities and nous of your average sherbet dip, but other than that, it was an alright place to work for a while.

Thinking about it, there were some really fun times, such as the day the bailiffs came in to close the store down and the manageress had a panic attack and had to hide in the loo while I made the bailiffs a cuppa, called head office, and managed to get the nasty men with the repossession order to go away for another three weeks or so, so that me and the rest of the staff could carry on getting paid until the end of the month, and the time the security alarm instructed us that there was a bomb alert in the shopping centre and we were under instruction to quickly scan the store and report anything unusual before preparing to evacuate, and I called the centre management to tell them that we'd had two customers in the store the whole day and one had only come in to ask where M&S was.*

Oh, and there was also the time that Christoper Ryan came in and I 'think' flirted a bit with me, and also the time they fired me because they thought I was stealing from them but I wasn't, which they realized when the thefts continued but too late, I'd gone wishing them bad luck after the way they treated me and they finally closed down after another three weeks.

Ah yes, happy days.

But this story is about one of the times the manageress was off work, and as I was the oldest and had the most experience, the other girls working in the shop decided that I was in charge.
It was on a Monday, and I'd had the weekend off while the rest of the staff got ready for a sale which was to start that day.
All the stock had been counted and signs and stickers had been written out and stuck onto the sale items by the manageress and the bods from HO.
As per usual, I was the first one there and after waiting twenty minutes or so for the manageress to turn up to let me in, I at last began to start doing something useful rather than lurking outside the shop and watching Noel Edmonds glare menacingly at the Mr Blobby display of merchandizing tat in the card store opposite.

The day was even more dull than usual; barely any customers came into the store, and those that did caught a whiff of the honeysuckle and parsnip incense which sent them straight back into the fresher scent of happy shopper.

I'd been keeping myself amused by taking a stock check of the overpriced pebbles crystals, when an officious looking man coughed loudly at one of the girls who were gathered together by the essential oils, and demanded to see the person in charge.
As they'd decided that I was the person to talk to when the management were AWOL, they sent Mr Snotty over to me whereupon he introduced himself as one of the partners in the company.
After I checked his ID and confirmed who he was with HO, he told me there was a problem in the store and asked me if any of us had a brain between us.
Fighting the urge to tell him to go fuc answer back, I asked him what was wrong, whereupon he showed me a sign that someone had written informing customers that the organic-tofu-and-rhino-dung writing sets were at half price, had been spelled incorrectly.
Glaring at me as if I was to blame, he pointed at the sign that read in big red letters, 'Stationary!'
I looked at the sign, then looked back at him and replied

"Is it moving?"

Officious twat = stuck for words?

Priceless.

*It was next door.

Bonjour mes petits pois!

Just to let you know that I'm still alive although still rather fuzzy round the edges still.

I'm off to get stabbed in the arm today so that the docs might be able to find out why I keep falling aspleep/not spleeping etc, and as I really don't needles I'm trying not to think about it for now.

Anyway, keeping up some semblance of normality, your Choose-O choices for tomorrow's tale are -

• Shop
• Shop
• or Shop

Choose wisely, and please tell me all about your weekends as they must be far more thrilling than mine was, unless you reckon watching telly all day between naps exciting.

Until tomorrow then,

X

I think I've been bitten by a Tsetse fly.

Either that or there's some other reason why I am now suffering form the extreme opposite of insomnia, in that for the last three days I haven't been able to stay awake.

I've been nodding off for hours at a time, and spleeping for about twelve hours a night, and this has lead to a headache which will not go away, and it's not nice at all.

I've missed important appointments such as my physio, and whenever I've made to pick up the phone and call them to apologize and re-book, I've fallen aspleep. Again!

I've got an appointment to see my GP tomorrow, and I'm just praying I can stay awake so that I can get there.

If anyone has any useful tips on how to stay awake, please let me know before I fall aspleep yet agzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

I have amazing news to impart!

Earlier today I got a call from a theatrical agent I'd recently signed up with who told me I'd been offered the lead role in a film co-starring with Alan Rickman! When I heard I dashed to the off licence to get a bottle of bubbly, and while I was paying I found the ticket I bought for last Saturday's lotto, asked them if they could check it and found I'd won the £7,000,000 roll-over prize!

Oh yeah, and Sebastian Chebal has been emailing swearing undying love for me as well.

Yep, it's April Fool's Day again, woohoo. I was thinking about setting up some fabulously funny prank to play on someone, but when you live alone and are signed off work, you don't get to meet that many people that you can have such fun with.
I wondered about rigging up a trap outside the front door to surprize the postman, but decided against it as they occasionally bring nice things and I don't want the hassle of yet another trip to the police station to explain myself.

I have played some fun jokes in the past.

My favourite was when I was on an IT course some years ago and went in extra early to get all the puters online with Windows RG running on them in full screen mode.
That was fun to watch.
Another was when I was helping to run that pub near Reading by mistake and put 'Red Herring' up on the menu. Surprisingly, about a dozen customers ordered it and were gobsmacked when they got a plate of salad instead.
But I haven't played any for ages.

I have found a site that lists many of the greatest April Fool's jokes of all time, such as the Spaghetti harvest, Decimal Time, and one of my favourites, the flying penguins, and I'm sure if I had access to all the toys and so that make setting up pranks like that possible, I'd come up with something pretty damn good, but all I have is my ancient puter, camera and a load of playmobile.

And so my little bunnywabbits, I turn to you for inspiration. What's the best ever April Fool's Day prank you've managed to pull off? Maybe you're planning on doing one today, or have you fallen foul at the hands of another prankster?
Tell me all about it in the comments box as usual, and while you're down there, don't forget to think up a witticism for today's Caption Competition, the photo for which is -

£5 for every entry, and an extra bottle of champagne going for the person who gets me to a 69!
So what are you waiting for?
Get stuffing my box tout suite!